


On the Page of History

by lucianowriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cop!Derek, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, emotions found in tense situations, love so much love, mention of death not Stiles or Derek, school shooting, teacher!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:57:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8406100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter
Summary: When shots ring out at Beacon Hills High School Derek is on the scene as a cop. Stiles is there as a teacher. What ensues may just change their lives forever, in more ways than they ever thought possible.





	

It happened in the flash of a moment. One second my class was sitting quietly working on their term papers. The next second chaos was pressing in on us from outside. Students were screaming and running down the halls.

I get up from my desk to investigate the noise and what I see is nothing short of a cinematic moment. One of those moments you know happens but, you always tell yourself that it won’t ever happen to you. However, it was happening; not just to me but all of Beacon Hills High School. Kids were running and screaming. Then I hear it.

Shots fired.

I gulp as I close my door once more and turn back to see eighteen pairs of curious eyes looking directly at me. They are all silently asking me for answers. I can see flickers of fear starting to appear on some of their faces. Then a voice rings out above the noise and the chaos. 

“Get down. Hide, under desks, behind doors. Wherever you can. Don’t leave this room.”

It takes a few moments for me to realize that it is my voice and not someone else’s. I have no idea where this sudden batch of courage is coming from because if I’m being honest with myself I am terrified. I didn’t think that going into work today would potentially mean the end of my life. It’s not like I’m a cop like my wonderful partner, Derek Hale. 

I’m a freaking teacher.

No one really wants to die, unless you are super old and ready to stop the pain of living. 

No one _my age_ wants to die. I’m only 34 for crying out loud. I’ve barely lived yet. I have experiences left on my list of life goals yet to accomplish. Yes I have a life goals list. Don’t judge.

 

I watch as all my students scramble to find a place to hide out of sight. All of my students except for one. A young man by the name of Tyler Burke. He is a scrawny kid, kind of reminds me of myself when I was his age, and has a thirst to prove himself. He walks towards me and says the simplest of statements, but one that makes me realize I have to be strong in this moment. 

“What do we do, Mr. Stilinski?” His eyes are big with anticipation and false bravado.

“Nothing. Please just hide. There’s a person in the building with a gun. Now is not the time for heroes. We should all just sit quietly and maybe they won’t come in here.” I say, my words faltering towards the end, my bravery giving out as I sink to the floor right there against the door. 

Tyler must hear the desperation in my voice because he finally crouches behind his desk. I hear him hiss at a couple of the girls, who are loudly sobbing, to shut up. I can hear every tick of the second hand on the clock up on the wall.

I’m their teacher and they are all looking to me for what to do and how to act. They are looking to me for guidance and I close my eyes and cringe as the next set of shots ring out. We all bow our heads into our knees and I see some students grab each other’s hand. As more and more shots ring out, getting louder with each passing moment, I feel my heart pounding out of my chest.

Then the handle turns. I take a deep breath, stand up, and steel myself for what is about to happen. I won’t let this person hurt my students. I say a silent prayer as the tears run down my face. I think of Derek’s smile and his laughter. I see all of our wonderful moments together flash before my eyes as the door seems to slowly open. It’s as if time has slowed way down. I’ve heard people say it happens but, until this very moment I never believed them. 

I think of Derek and his beautiful light green eyes. My beautiful partner who is all gruff exterior but all soft and warm interior. His exterior makes him a tough cop that gets the job done without ever having to fire his weapon. But his cop demeanor is not what I'm thinking about right now, nope I am thinking of his smile. The one he gives only me. The one no one else in the world really gets to experience. It's my strength and my weakness all in one.

I take another deep breath and close my eyes. As the person at the door walks in I say one last thing. 

“Derek, I love you.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

As a cop you always fear the worst. You worry that the domestic disturbance call you go on will turn and get you hurt, or worse killed. You worry that the child neglect case will be a child death case by the time you get there. A badge and a gun won’t save you from seeing true horrors or living them.

All the training in the world cannot prepare you for those terrifyingly awful moments. 

Just like all the protocol trainings for crises will never prepare you for the thoughts that run through your head when the call comes out over the radio. 

_Shots fired at Beacon Hills High School. All available units needed to diffuse situation._  

Hearing those words my blood runs cold and only one word comes to mind.

Stiles.

 

I feel my partner’s eyes on me as my world comes slowly back into focus. She is a more seasoned veteran than me. She has 3 years more on the job than me and she has practically seen it all. Though neither of us have ever had to do a mass shooting call. She knows that I’m gay and that my partner is a high school teacher. In fact, she and her husband have even met Stiles. She doesn’t say anything to me, just places her hand on my arm.

“Yeah. I’m good. Let’s go. It’s all hands on deck.” I respond to her unspoken question. 

“Hale, you have every right to sit this one out. The sheriff would understand. I mean he could be involved. Stiles.” My partner, Vicky Teller’s voice is soft and calming, but she knows as well as I that I won’t sit it out. I won’t be benched. I will go in after him.

Always.

We flip on our siren and blaze through town. With each passing moment my heart becomes filled with more and more dread.

 

I think of how I had yelled at him this morning because he'd spilled coffee on the counter and hadn't bothered to clean it up. I was so frustrated with him because it was a habit of his that irked me like no other. Stiles is a slob. However, now all I can think about is how I shouldn't have yelled and how that may be the last thing we ever say to each other. I wonder if he will die thinking I am mad at him. 

I'm not though. Sure, it frustrated me this morning, but by 10 am it was nothing but an irritant at the start of my day. I just hope and pray I'll get the chance to make things right.

_What if I find his dead body?_

I know that I can’t afford to think like that but, my mind can’t help it. Stiles saved my life all those years ago and now it’s my turn to save his. I just hope that I’m not too late.

 

As we race through yet another red light I turn my thoughts to positive things. Like Stiles’ laugh. I remember when I first met him, I was 22 and he was 16, I had been drawn to his and Scott’s location by the sound of his laughter. He had been teasing Scott about a dead body...my sister’s dead body to be exact.

Even then, long before I'd ever consider being with him, I was mesmerized by Stiles’ laugh. I silently begged for opportunities to hear it. Though when I did I usually rolled my eyes so as to not give away my true feelings about any of it. 

Stiles saved me from myself back then. It's because of his belief in me and my goodness that I finally allowed myself to dream. My dream? Being a true protector of this town as both human and werewolf. So when I left them behind, a few years after guiding Scott through his new life as a werewolf, I started working towards fulfilling the requirements to be a law enforcement agent. A deputy if you will. 

So when Stiles and I finally started dating, some 12 years ago I was a rookie on the job; working under his father in his final year as sheriff. Stiles was newly graduated with his bachelor's. He was just as clumsy as I remember and just as _human_ , for lack of a better term. Only now both of us were willing to admit our feelings.

Twelve years.

That's what I think of as we pull up alongside several other Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department cars. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I whimper as the person approaches me. Each footfall seems to echo around the room. I take a deep breath and open my eyes once more. 

If I'm gonna die I'm gonna look my killer in the face as he does it.

Standing before me is in fact the shooter. I see the sun glinting off the dark metal in his hand. I see that it is Marcus, one of my 3rd period seniors. He's always been a quiet, but highly intelligent student. I actually wished more of my students were like him. 

But now? Now I am terrified of him. He holds my life in his hands. His eyes are filled with a hatred like I've never seen before. Marcus doesn't look at me though. He is looking beyond me. Before I can react he has walked around me towards the girls who had been sobbing loudly only minutes before.

“You could have loved me, Bridget. Instead you laughed at the idea of me.” Marcus says, pointing his gun directly at the chest of Bridget, a girl with long, flowy brown hair, his tone showing nothing beyond contempt.

Before I can say anything, such as begging him to think about what he was doing, Marcus pulls the trigger. The shot rings in my ears long after. Tears stream down my face as I finally find my voice.

“Marcus.” I whimper. I reach out my hand to grasp at him. To catch his attention. 

He turns away from Bridget’s lifeless body at the sound of my voice. Suddenly his eyes show regret. I can't tell if it's for his actions or for the trauma it caused people he didn't mean to hurt.

“I always liked you Mr. Stilinski.” Marcus says softly as his attention turns back to me.

“You can stop this now, Marcus. Apologize and give up your gun. You'll still go to jail, but maybe they'll be easier on you if you go quietly.” I allow my voice to sound brave, even though I'm barely hanging on by a thread. 

For a moment a silence falls. I stare into the remorseful eyes of Marcus; an honor student with dark hair and tan skin. His usual meek and nervous demeanor is made bold by the gun and his steely calm about him. Then the silence is broken and what headway I may have made with him is gone.

“He should die like Bridget did. Let the cops take him out.” one of the boys in the room calls out from under his desk.

That statement was all it took for Marcus to return to his angry self. He raises the gun and shots ring out once more. A couple more students fall, blood seeping out; staining the carpet. I don't know if they are dead or not.

“Marcus please.” I plead as he turns the gun on me. 

“I'm sorry.” Marcus whispers as the gun goes off once more and a shooting pain rips through me.

I reach my hand down to my side, where the pain is strongest, and my fingers come in contact with a hot sticky substance. Blood. 

_I'm bleeding. I'm dying._  

With that thought my world goes black.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As my partner and I approach the sheriff and SWAT team commander I find myself holding my breath. I don't know what to expect, but when I hear their words it still seemed beyond expectation. 

“Shooter is still active. We have some SWAT guys at all the doors trying to get a read of the situation inside. From what we can tell it’s one student and he’s now stopped in a classroom, but we can’t get a clear view on him from the outside so we are going to have to go in.” the SWAT commander says as he motions over the blueprints of the school. He places his finger down on the room where the shooter is believed to be located.

Reading the blueprint my blood runs cold and my chest grows tight. I start moving towards the building, with one clear vision in my head. Get to Stiles. I am only about ten steps from the closest entrance when my progress is halted, it’s Vicky.

 

“Derek, you can’t just go running in there. Have you forgotten all of our training?” Vicky places her hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye. Her voice is once again soothing and calm.

“Stiles.” I manage to choke out.

“Could be safely at the gym down the street. You don’t even know if he’s in there.” Her voice still as steady as a rock, as if none of this terrifies her, but I know that it’s all a cover.

“I do know though. I know where his room is in the school. I’ve been there countless times. That SWAT guy he pointed right to it on the blueprint.” I look her in the eyes begging her to understand my desperation.

“He could have been somewhere else in the school. I am just saying you have to put emotion aside in this situation Derek, or I will suggest to Parrish that you need to be placed on suspension for the duration of the day.” Vicky strengthens her grip on my shoulders.

However, I am bigger than her and I am done listening to her. I have to get to Stiles. He needs me I can just feel it. I push away from her and run past her into the school. I hear Sheriff Parrish and Vicky both yelling at me to stop, but I ignore them.

 

Running down the halls today is so much more eerie and quiet. I see scattered papers and backpacks from where students dropped them as they were fleeing. I slow my steps down to a slow walk as I take it all in. I’m in the heart of chaos and yet calm all at once. There are a few lockers open from where students were obviously getting things when it all broke out. It’s a few feet from the stairs leading up to the dreaded room that I see the first body. At first I think they are dead, but then the boy groans and I rush to him. He is bleeding heavily from his knee, but not so heavily that he will die. I grab my jacket and tie a knot over the bullet wound to stop the bleeding. 

“Someone will come to get you out soon, I promise.” I whisper at him as I leave him behind and head up the steps.

With each new step I feel the dread building more and more in my chest. The upper level is even more eerily quiet than the lower. The hall up here is dark. I reach behind me to the flashlight on my belt. I also grab my gun. I have no idea why it’s taken me this long to get it out, but now definitely seemed like a good time to start. My progress is achingly slow, but I know that if I storm to Stiles’ room I could risk hurting him or me or both. There are too many unknowns and I can’t risk it. 

I almost jump when my radio beeps with a call coming in for me. I hear Parrish over the static and I freeze. I hope against hope that I am still safe and undetected from the shooter.

“Deputy Hale, come in. Are you fucking stupid? Come in Hale, come in.”

I grab the speaker and hiss into it, “I’m fine. Approaching the room with extreme caution. Found a boy on lower level with a shot to the knee. Someone should come and attend to him. I’ll radio in when I feel it is safe.”

“Don’t you dare turn off your radio, Hale!” I hear Parrish scream statically before I turn the volume way down. “HALE!” He screams again, but I ignore it. 

I am now right outside of Stiles’ classroom. My heart is pounding so loud, I’d be surprised if the people inside the room couldn’t hear it too. I listen hoping to discern whether or not there were people inside. That's when I hear it. A voice. Crying.

 

I open the door slightly and see the shooter with his back to me. From the look in their eyes I know that some of the students hiding under the desk have seen me. I silently raise my finger to my mouth, signaling them to not say anything. I am a little more than an arm's length away from the boy’s back when I stop short. I see blood pooling near the boy’s feet. He is standing over someone. 

He is crying and mumbling the same apology over and over again. 

“Mr. S I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I'm so sorry. Please I'm sorry.” His voice echoing with desperation and guilt.

Hearing his words my heart drops.

I inch ever closer. My hand gently makes contact with his back just as I whisper, “drop the gun”. 

He flings his arms back in shock, dropping the gun and accidentally clocking me right in the nose with his other fist. 

When he moves I see him. Stiles. On the floor, surrounded by a puddle of his own blood. I feel my heart stop as I stare at his ghostly figure and don't see him move. Then he groans and my heart starts again, knowing that at least he's still alive.  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When I open my eyes I immediately have to close them again. The bright lights are a shock to my system. This tells me I must have been out for some time. The details about where I am and why are a bit hazy. However, it all comes rushing back the minute I try to sit up. 

I hiss slightly in reaction to the sharp pain from my side. I can’t stay up on my elbows for long, because soon the pain is so intense I see stars in my vision. So, I plop back against my pillow. Only it’s not my pillow, it’s a stiff hospital one. I know that it is hospital issue because of my memories from when my mom died and my dad and I practically slept at the hospital with her.

Speaking of sleeping at the hospital, I catch sight of a sleeping figure off to my right. Turning my head slowly, so as to not shock my system any more, I stare straight into the sleeping face of my beautiful boyfriend. I reach my arm out, trying to make contact with him. However my IV prevents me from stretching too much. My fingers barely graze the edge of his knee. 

“Mmmm” Derek starts and sits up a bit. He rubs his fingers over his eyes to wake up more.

I lay back on my pillow and look at him silently. All that we've been through together and apart in our lives runs through my head. There have been so many times over the years that he has been there to save me. I love that he's there for me like that but it's so frustrating that I can't save him, just this once. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is soft and loving. He reaches out and takes my hand, moving from the chair to the edge of the bed.

I look at him, my frustration immediately disappears and I touch my hand to his cheek. Derek closes his eyes and leans into my hand. Our foreheads touch and in the silence I feel his love for me; above all else.

 

“Stiles,” Derek whispers followed by a sigh. “I can't lose you. EVER. When I heard you were in with the shooter I couldn't breathe. My heart was in my throat. I was begging with God and I don't really believe in that crap.”

“Hey, hey.” I whisper back, lifting his chin so that his eyes are locked on mine. “I am not going anywhere. You're stuck with my annoying, spastic ass for life. Ok?” I feel the tears fall as he nods.

The kiss that comes after is the most emotional kiss I've ever had. It's better than fucking curly fries. I never want it to end. Derek’s body presses into mine like he wants to attach himself there and never leave. I have never felt a love this deep, ever. Not even from him in our twelve years together. It's like this shooting opened up the floodgates to Derek’s highly protected soul. It is everything, and not enough all at once. Nothing will ever be enough to show our love. 

Soon enough Derek is lying on the bed next to me. His arm wrapped protectively around my shoulder. I don't have the heart to ask him specifics of what happened to me. It's hard enough watching him silently struggle to mask the fear and pain he has just seeing me in my current state. I am sure that all he saw and went through that day is rampaging through his thoughts with every single look. 

I've never before seen him this vulnerable. Ever. He's the freaking werewolf! He's always been my solid rock, through everything. Now I watch as he fights to hold back his tears. 

_This is it. This is my moment to be the savior. Save the fucking day Stiles._ My thoughts embolden me and I sit up,despite the agonizing pain.

“Stiles! You need to lay down and rest. Your body went through a trauma!” Derek jumps from his position on the bed so he can better shove my shoulders back against the pillow. 

“No.” I grit through the pain stubbornly. “What about the trauma you went through?”

“Stiles I'm not the one who’s in the hospital. You are.” Derek deflects my question with practiced ease.

“Okay so you didn't go into the school? You didn't see any of the victims? You didn't worry at all about me?” I huff out, giving him my unwavering stare. “Not all trauma is physical Derek.”

“Let it go Stiles. Focus on yourself and getting better.” Derek looks away from me and sits back down in the chair.

“Why?”

“Why what? Why must you focus on healing? I don't know maybe so you can get out of here and go home.” Derek gives me a flippant response and looks at me with his steely gaze and raised eyebrow. After so many years of knowing the guy I know that if I persist he will eventually be wheedled down.

“Why won't you fucking admit you are suffering too?” I practically shout at him, hoping to break through his armor. However, he simply pushes the call button. 

“The nurse should give you some more pain meds. Let you rest.” Derek won't even look up from his lap as he says this which tells me I'm close to annoying him enough that he explodes.

“Derek why won't you just tell one thing you went through that day? I'm just trying to help.” I whine somewhat, my tone more annoyed than anything though.

I hear a sniff in response and I see him stand up, his fist clenched; his claws have come out. Just as he explodes I see in my peripheral vision a nurse enter the room.

“BECAUSE STILES! I SAW YOU IN A PUDDLE OF YOUR OWN FUCKING BLOOD! I COULDN'T BREATHE! I ALMOST DIED FROM THE THOUGHT OF LOSING YOU. EVERYTIME I LOOK AT YOU I SEE YOU ON THAT FLOOR BARELY ALIVE. SO NO I DON’T WANNA FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT.”

 

Before I can even comprehend all that he had let forth in his fury of words his arms are wrapped tightly around me. He is sobbing into my shoulder and clutching at my back and head in a death grip. It’s as if he lets go he will lose all ground to his sanity. I then realize that Derek, is just as broken as me sometimes. Maybe even more often than me, but he hides it all behind his steely figure and walls of protection. I look over his shaking shoulders to see the nurse giving me a questioning look. I give her a smirk that I hope conveys my feelings of content with the situation.

Then I hear it, his words. Derek is not only sobbing but choking his way through words of apology. 

“I’m so sorry Stiles. I yelled at you about the fucking coffee. It’s just a little spill. It doesn’t mean anything. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You would’ve died thinking I didn’t love you anymore.” Derek hiccoughs through his snotty filled words.

I don’t say anything. I just let him continue to apologize while I squeeze as tightly to him as I can muster, through my pain. I know he doesn’t need my words right now. He just needs the silent comfort. He knows that I don’t really blame him for what happened that morning, nor do I think that he doesn’t love me. He just needs to get the words out. To find retribution for all his feelings of guilt and fear.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**6 Months Later**

 

“Are you sure you are ready?” Derek asks me for the millionth time, since yesterday, as I brush my teeth and he adjusts his hair.

The last six months have been rough. I may have left the hospital after only a week in residence, but I came home with more than a few scars. Not just the physical ones. For a month or two afterwards I couldn’t be alone. Ever. And up until about six weeks ago I would wake up from night terrors every night. Now I only get them about once a week.

Derek has a right to worry about me, but as my therapist said, I need to get back on the horse. I can’t spend my whole life running from it. I have to go back. Even if it’s just to face my fear head on. If I am being completely honest I am NOT ready. In fact, I try not to think about it out of fear of a panic attack coming on. 

I spit out my toothpaste and deposit my toothbrush in the proper spot before giving Derek a peck on his cheek. He gives a smirk as my lips touch him. It’s nice to know that no matter what we go through and no matter how much time passes we will always be able to make the other happy.

“Mhm.” I nod curtly as I dart into our bedroom to finish getting dressed. What I don’t tell Derek is how much he keeps me sane and put together in this new reality that is “post shooting”. I don’t tell him that every day that he does little things for me, like run his fingers through my hair or make me a cup of tea when a night terror wakes me up, I fall even more and more in love with him. 

_How do I tell the man who has given me his everything that it is appreciated 100% and then some?_  

If I thought my silence would sully his concern for me I was very much mistaken. He comes striding back into our bedroom, all sexy I might add, in his full deputy uniform. He gives me a knowing look, quirked eyebrow and all, as he sits on the edge of our bed. I sometimes hate that he can read me so well. He can see it, the panic teetering on the edge of my consciousness. I am a moment away from full on attack and all he does is get up from the bed to position himself behind me. His hands placed on my shoulders to steady me and ground me as the blackness takes control. 

Before I met Derek I would hate anyone touching me during a panic attack. However, after him if he steadies me before the attack hits full force my body doesn’t rebel his touch. It’s nice because it makes the panic end more quickly. It keeps me grounded and aware that I exist; that I won’t just disappear.

I come back to the present in stages. I see the surrounding room at large first. Then the furniture. Then more specific things like the loose change on the dresser and Derek’s badge and gun on the bedside table. And Derek’s face, riddled with concern. As soon as he is sure I am going to be okay he lets his hands drop away from me. 

“I don’t think you should do it. Not today. You aren’t ready.” Derek says, jutting his chin out in concerned defiance.

“Der, it’s the first day of the new school year. I gotta go. Besides if I don’t go today then I will just keep finding excuses to put it off. Then I’ll never go back to teaching.” I rub my hands on his tensed up arms to try and talk him down.

“Is that really so bad?” Derek’s eyes are begging me. I know he is scared for me. He went through his share of trauma that day too. He also sees a therapist, a shocking development if you ask me, which has resulted in him being a bit more open about everything; including his past.

“We talked about this. I _love_ my job. I love teaching those kids. I’ll be fine. Besides, Lydia took over as principal this year so I won’t be alone.” I give Derek my most serious, I mean business, face. 

“What if I go with you. Sit at the back of your class. Whatever.” Derek’s eyes suddenly light up and I feel bad about what I’m about to do.

“No! I need to do this on my own. Just go to work babe. I’ll be fine. I’ll call if I’m not. I promise.” My words are soft and loving. I lean forward and place a hard kiss on his lips to drive home my point.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Stiles may have told me I couldn’t tag along with him to his classroom. That doesn’t mean I can’t keep an eye on him from a safe distance, in disguise. Sure, this wasn’t what I imagined doing today and I could get in trouble for skirting off work, but this was equally as important. I needed to make sure he was okay. 

The emotions I've been through these last six months are all new to me. I've never dealt with feeling this needy and needed before. Ever since almost losing Stiles I've realized that I need him like I need air. Without him I can't exist. Without him I become less than human. I'd end up full wolf, a stranger to my human side. He _is_ my human side.

I sneak into the side entrance of the school with a few teens who look to be seniors. I am out of my uniform, I changed after Stiles left, and wearing a simple green Henley and jeans. I march directly to the principal's office so I can chat with Lydia about keeping an eye on Stiles.

However, just as I get to the office Stiles strides out and my plan goes to shit. He is almost upon me before he even looks up and sees me. If he was unsure about his decision to return today I see no trace of it etched in his face.

“Derek!” Stiles rolls his eyes at me as he strides past and motions for me to follow. “I told you I don't need you to babysit me!”

“I'm not babysitting. I'm just being a backup in case you need it.” I reply and give him my signature “just for him” smile hoping it'll make him less upset.

“I don't need freaking backup Der. It's teaching. How likely is it that the same crisis is gonna happen here twice in the span of a year? Not likely at all I tell ya. So please just let me do this!” I can tell that Stiles is trying his best not to get pissy with me as we enter his new classroom.

This room is on the opposite side of the building from his old. I silently wonder if that was a stipulation from him in order to come back. I can't imagine he'd ever wanna teach in that room again. After all three of his students died there. He almost did.

 

“Please just let me stay. At least until lunch? As much for me as for you?” I plead, grabbing his hand. 

With a sigh and an eye roll he says yes and I laugh. I squeeze him into a hug. After a quick moment I pull away, but leave my hands on his shoulders.

“So, before the students get here I wanted to say something to you. Something really important.” I say, seriously, looking straight into Stiles’ eyes.

“What is it? You are scaring me slightly.” Stiles says, barely above a whisper.

“These last six months I have had time to reevaluate my life and what I want. Who I want in it. When I almost lost you I realized just how much my existence revolved around you and how wonderful that existence truly is. I don’t want you to ever wonder if I will suddenly leave someday without a word. Or that I don’t love you. Because dammit, Stiles. I love you enough to make this stupid ridiculous speech to you in the middle of your classroom just moments away from your students walking in.” I give him my biggest, warmest smile. My eyes don’t leave his and I see the gears working in his brain as he puts everything together. 

“Are you.” He starts and then stops, “Are you proposing?” His tone is breathless and full of hope. I pull my hands away from his shoulders and fish out the ring in my pocket.

Stiles simply looks at me and I know what his answer is. He doesn’t even have to respond. His joy and excitement and slight amount of tears say it all to me. He looks at me like I have fucking hung the moon just for him.   

I slip the ring onto his finger and wrap him in a hug in one motion. He clings to me like his life has been restored. Like he is no longer afraid. Stiles’ embrace feels like my thoughts in my head. That together we can conquer anything.

When the five minute warning bell rings he jumps slightly.

“It's ok. That's just the bell.” I whisper as he pulls away from me and steps up to the board to write his name. He turns back to me one last time and gives me a shit eating grin. God I love this man.

 

I've never gotten to watch my man in his element before. He's never let me. He says it makes him nervous being watched as he teaches. It's a sign of just how much he's changed that he's letting me watch him. I see his under the surface tension slowly disappear with each word he lectures to the teenagers before him. Maybe him coming back to teach wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe it's exactly what he's needed this whole time.

I fall even more in love with him as I watch him teach with a passion like I haven't seen in him in years. He's no longer just teaching history. He's realized that he's also a part of it. Etched in print forever. 

_High School teacher faces down gunman and survives._

We have not only survived. We have thrived.

  



End file.
